“and it came, with its long passageways without end”
-Clarice Lispector, Soulstorm –
and then again, the words, the words they came, presently, fluently, astonishingly as miracles, your body, the languid haunches – temptations, always – your breasts – these letters, formed in the hands…you, you, you, all of you, and I want/ed, I want, I am wanting to grapple, devour and subsume, consume (no, never!) you, but utterly – to the end – to everything – a swallow and fire and drowning and drought – to eviscerate, desiccate, absorb – to thorough you. I want to thorough. I want to you, thoroughly. Yes, that is what. That is the who what am I? The always when and every how – I want you thoroughly, but not you as realized by or digested in or taken or given or experienced thoroughly (without remainder) but rather
What I am saying (without remainder) What I mean is, what I am saying, shouting, quite silently shrieving, shrieking, screeing, WHAT I CRAVE REVEALING ENTIRELY BY RAVAGING TO END…
I WANT TO YOU.
And I want you to want to me, as mad, as madly, as terribly and
I am ravenous now, each instant and you for starving for me (I’d like that – have me)
but yes and I am having taking giving receiving AND YOU.
I do not understand.
It maddens, controls,
And this is what I mean.
In hopes that I was born for this…